he north-west at Lincombe Lock, there they leave it, or,
rather, continue in a north-easterly direction which takes them across
the southern end of Hartlebury Common. As I have already mentioned, this
Common is overgrown with gorse, heather, and ling, and scattered here
and there are a number of dwarf oak-trees and small elder-bushes. The
situation is therefore an ideal one for the smaller migrants to rest for
a brief time, and, from the point of view of the observer, very suitable
because it is open and the movements of the birds can be traced for some
distance. Turtle Doves pass over at a great height, or skim across a few
feet above the gorse; Redstarts settle for a few minutes and then
disappear; Tree-Pipits, Whinchats, and Willow-Warblers pass from tree to
tree or flit from bush to bush--and all in a north-easterly direction.
They do not sing, they are restless, and, judging by their behaviour,
they are anxious to conceal their presence, not to make it known. Yet we
know that when they reach their destination, as presently they will, all
this will change; that each of them will employ every means at its
disposal to make itself conspicuous; and that each, as far as it is
able, will resist intrusion on the part of other species.

Now the southern end of the Common is always inhabited by individuals
belonging to one of these species, or to others of close affinity; so
that wherever these travellers settle whilst passing across it, the
chances are that they will find the ground occupied--and their behaviour
under such circumstances is no less interesting than the behaviour of
the bird upon whose ground they are trespassing. We will take the case
of the Whinchat. It arrives from the south-west, and, flying from bush
to bush, works its way in a north-easterly direction. In doing so it
intrudes upon the territory of a Stonechat; and the Stonechat, becoming
excited, flies towards it, and it retires for a short distance in the
direction from whence it came. Here again it is followed and attacked
and again moves on, and then, flying in a circle as if to avoid the
territory which blocked the path, resumes its former line of flight,
though still followed by the Stonechat, which after continuing the
pursuit for perhaps a quarter of a mile, suddenly turns in the air and
returns to its headquarters.

It is difficult to put oneself in the place of the Stonechat or of the
Whinchat. But even after making due allowance for the danger